


All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine

by Zelshamada



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Malfoy has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelshamada/pseuds/Zelshamada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco knows that his personal definition of freedom is… Well, far less Malfoyian that he is willing to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine

_I breath you in, but honey I don't know_  
_What you're doing to me_  
_Mon Cheri, but the truth catches up with us eventually_  
**Fall Out Boy - Irresistible**

 

 

 

 

 **What he doesn’t know**  
  
Draco doesn’t know that to Dobby, freedom means socks. To Sirius, means being able to marauder around without care about his personal safety, either as a human or as a dog. To Hermione, freedom is a good book, a book with a great story or a book that holds all the answers she is looking for. To Harry, freedom is his broom and going higher and higher and then even higher in the sky. To Remus freedom is moonless nights. To Fred and George is those precious moments after a mischief is done. To Ginny is having a secret all to herself. To Hagrid is the Forbidden Forrest and to Neville and Luna is being useful to their friends.  
  
What freedom means to the Weasley, as a family, is being happy. To Bellatrix is having the power to make other people suffer but to Severus, freedom is knowing how to funnel all the hurt and putting it to _work_. Freedom to the Dark Lord is defeating Dead. Freedom to Dumbledore is Hogwarts.  
  
But Draco doesn’t know any of that. And all in all, he doesn’t care.

  
  
  
  
**What he knows**  
  
What Draco does know is that freedom to the Malfoy family means great money and, ironically enough, having good connections. He knows that to Narcissa freedom means _making_ her own family, and to Lucius is having his status justifying all his actions.  
  
Draco knows that to him freedom should mean being better that anyone else in everything. Or if that fails (in the spirit that _everything_ is just a vague and a too encompassing word), it should mean to be better that anyone else in all the attributes that would made him an all deserving Malfoy heir.  
  
Draco knows all these, and he cares, truly, but…  
  
To Ron Weasley, freedom means being able to parade inside his living room in just his underwear because he has The Burrow all to himself; no protective parents, no pestering bothers, no annoying sister to worry about. No responsibility, no expectations. Draco knows this because Ron told him once, with his eyes full of laughter and his body tired but satisfied, without knowing what he was actually revealing.  
  
Draco also knows that his personal definition of freedom is… Well, far less Malfoyian that he is willing to admit.

  
  
  
  
“Harder… Harder, Weasley, just…”  
  
A husky laugh as an answer. And then: “Oh my, Malfoy… Just look at you all desperate. Harder, you say? What? Like this?”  
  
And, why yes, just like that, thank you.  
  
“But—but… Oh, come on!”  
  
Because, surely, Weasley was thrusting inside Draco with powerful movements _(oh-so-deepdeepdeeprighttherebullseye)_ but now the speed was all wrong. It was too fucking slow.  
  
Another laugh, even more breathless this time. And more teasing:  
  
“What, Draco? What was that?”  
  
“Hurry the fucking up, you git! Just—Oh Merlin— Just… Like that but… But… Faster! Faster!”  
  
More laughter. The bastard. It was always the same way: he would give Draco whatever he asked for but then he took away something else. Or Weasley’d give him more than he thought he could handle.  
  
“No.”  
  
A second later, the ties at Draco’s wrists, magically, made themselves even tighter and Weasley’s hands gripped his waist brutally, using force to stop all of Draco’s movements. But Weasley keep thrusting. And Draco moaned with abandon. It was the only thing he could do, as a matter of fact.  
  
It took him a full minute to heard himself whispering _“Ron… Ron… Ron…”_ in-between all the _“ggghmm”_ he was making but, really, he had no control over his body, non whatsoever, and _“That’s the name of your King, that’s right”_ , was always the fucking answer, like they got an inner joke going on, and Draco didn’t care, and did care at the same time (oh, he cared so fucking much it hurt). But he just wanted to come—Oh, God, just—  
  
Draco never begged, no even in the state of heavy arousal; he just couldn’t. Weasley, against all odds, never asked him to.  
  
“Then fuck me hard and make me come, you—My fucking King.”  
  
That did the trick. Because as much as Ron knew where all of Draco’s buttons were, Draco knew more than a few things about the ginger. For some reason of another, Ron loved when Draco said “fuck me”. In the right moment, it could get him wild. just like right now.  
  
Because right fucking now, Ron Weasley was at his top speed and power. _And fuck—Hell, yeah—Godric saves the worthy Gryffindors—Like that, like that, more—Fuck you—More, Weasley—Oh, Ron, Ron, Ron!_  
  
Draco may or may not have said all of that out loud. By Ron’s reaction though… Yes, yes he did.  
  
And finally, finally, _finally_ Ron’s grip on waist got just as abrasive as the pace in his thrusts until one of the ginger’s hand took itself to Draco’s hair and pulled and pulled and pulled until it hurt hurt hurt. And Draco was howling in pain-pleasure but then Ron’s teeth found their way to Draco’s shoulder, just shy of his neck, and Ron bit and then—  
  
White. Glorious, consuming, earth-shaking, amazing, wrecker, healing, loved white.  
  
Ron finished inside him, Draco could always felt him no matter how high in pleasure he was, and it was like another shot of adrenaline.  
  
When Draco at last came back to his present, Ron had already cleaned them and put them comfortably on the very messy bed. He had Draco in a cuddle inside his arms but Ron’s hands were caressing Draco’s newest set to bruises by his waist and, as always, he was whispering by Draco’s ear, in a sweet and soft voice: “There you are, my gorgeous. I got you, I got you. Your King got you”, and then he laughed.  
  
Draco’s left hand was in the ginger’s hair. He could feel himself smiling.  
  
“Such a great King, I got”, he would say trying to making it sound unimportant. It never worked.

  
  
  
Draco doesn’t know if his moments of freedom are more fucked up than others’, but he doesn’t really care. Because, yes, somehow he’s found freedom in being tied up, and freedom in bruises and in pain; freedom in being secretly with a person that he shouldn’t want but was the only one that let Draco be himself without asking for anything in return. Freedom to Draco Malfoy, was all about reading correctly all that was going on behind Ron Weasley’s eyes and about knowing he could act as himself (not a cold as he should, not as cunning; just a little bit kind, a little bit humble). Freedom means being who he is without caring about the consequences.  
  
Freedom means being reckless, a rebel, in love.  
  
To Draco Malfoy, freedom means proclaiming Ron Weasley as his King and then laugh at him because he has never met a King so poor and so alive at the same time.  
  
And that is all that he really cares.  


**Author's Note:**

> * The tittle is also from FOB's Irresistible.  
> * Thank you for reading! (and just because I'm curious --and if you feel like sharing--, what does freedom mean to you?)


End file.
